


above ground and above towers

by inkroller



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Gen, and unlike my past work this is 3rd person. cool, joshua doesn't have dialogue but hes There, nb rhyme, work in full lowercase. we're emphasizing how tired neku is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkroller/pseuds/inkroller
Summary: dying is a stupid idea. so is coming back to life.above the underground, he can't help but lament. above the tops of towers, he can't do much at all.(a post-canon speculation for the boy who lost three lives, with the friends he fought back to save, and concerning the one who went missing long ago.)





	above ground and above towers

when neku is in the realm of the living again, the _real_ ground and not the world down _under_ , people are staring. it’s uncomfortable and unusual — once upon a few weeks ago, people stared at him for getting in his path, not for the other way around.

( _it… doesn’t make it better that when he pushes himself up and looks at the sea of citizens who haven’t played the games he’s had to, he yells in their face to someone not even there. he feels bad when he sees some of them shy away from the scene._ )

it’s jarring. one moment, his own incorporeal, teary-eyed ghost is shot dead. the next moment, he’s in the scramble, alive.

 _alive_. not static in shibuya.

joshua’s words resound in his ears. he rushes home past wary eyes and remembers the fee tossed in the air like a coin, remembers shibuya shaking in the air watching whichever side that won.

he gets home soon after, pushes the door open with keys long lost in the crevice of his pocket. the door shuts, the clock ticks eleven, and when he fumbles his way into his room, he can’t help but slam a fist straight into his sheets.

 _damn it_ , he thinks.

_you said you were going to destroy shibuya. you didn’t._

_what the_ fuck _is your deal, you asshole?_

the only response is the silence.

* * *

neku gets back saturday and lies at home in his bed sunday. or, well, that’s what the date on his phone says. he’s thankful that if he had to die again, he had time to cool down before school.

oh, who is he kidding, he didn’t want to die in the _first place_ —

the door slams open, thuds against the wall. his mother stands in its hollow spot.

 **“ neku, where have you** **_been_** **? ”**

he gets up, quickly folds his phone in, jumps once and stares straight and startled towards his mother. she’s more tired than she ever was a month ago, from the bags under her eyes to the pain in her voice — and he wonders if it’s his fault, the dying part and the disappearing for three weeks part all considered.

but she’s looking at the blood under his skin and the life in his beating heart, not the bones of the corpse he could’ve been. he can see it in her eyes, small and far as they may be at the door.

he takes a breath, and with the small energy of the morning sun, gives a half-assed lie.

**“ out. ”**

his mother looks to the window and to him, blotting out the first signs of regret on her face with a sad smile. it is, after all, the first time he’s talked to her in a while.

**“ …well, i missed you. i know it’s the summer, but couldn’t you tell me next time you decide to hang out with a friend? ”**

neku smiles back, runs to give her a hug.

( _he doesn’t have the heart to tell her his friends have all been dead, that he hasn’t made any since he was made to play for his own life and so many others._

 _but in the warmth of her arms and her sudden surprise, it doesn’t matter at all._ )

**“ …i missed you too, mom. ”**

* * *

neku takes the afternoon to assess the situation. he spreads out on his desk his phone, loose papers, pencils, his schoolwork — actually, he doesn’t, he drops it on the ground and pushes it aside. he opens up the phonebook, ties his hair back so he can read better, and scans the crammed sections for _misaki, shiki_.

it takes a few minutes for him to find her. back his phone splits open, fingers scrambling to type the number right and text her.

**[ to: misaki shiki. date: 2007 / 08 / 26. ]**

**13:01** : _hey. this is neku._  
**13:02** : _sorry about the scare. bsides getting looks in the crossing im fine  
_ **13:02** : _you okay?_

he drums his fingers on white leaves, waiting impatiently before he gets any response.

**[ from: misaki shiki. ]**

**13:04** : _neku?_  
**13:04** : _omg_  
**13:05** : _i’m fine! i’m glad u are too_  
**13:05** : _beat n rhyme are ok! i just texted them  
_ **13:05** : _i was trying to find ur number rn, actually!_

**[ to: misaki shiki. ]**

**13:06** : _great. thanks._

little overpowers the temptation to tell her outright he’s missed her — from week two, a nuisance and a chokehold of a game, to week three, where everything was on the line —

and yet, well, he doesn’t. those little reasons are minute and strong, and he thinks, there has to be a better way to convey that. not just through text, but…

the idea pops into his head.

 **13:07** : _hey, do you want to meet up later?_  
**13:07** : _same place we planned on. hachiko  
_ **13:07** : _we can invite beat, and rhyme, too_

**[ from: misaki shiki. ]**

**13:08** : _that sounds great!_  
**13:08** : _..well. not the later part. eri wants to do stuff_  
**13:08** : _last days of break n all_  
**13:08** : _what about thursday, @2?  
_ **13:08** : _eri’s busy then, but i think she’d wanna come next time too_

**[ to: misaki shiki. ]**

**13:09** : _fine with me_.  
**13:09** : _can you ask beat and rhyme? i dont have their numbers_

**[ from: misaki shiki. ]**

**13:09** : _oh i almost forgot! definitely_

neku takes the time to slump and wait, glancing around at his room until he gets another answer.

 **13:16** : _it’s settled!  
_**13:16** : _we’ll see you at hachiko, neku._

to that, he smiles, closing his phone and ceasing contact. he’s glad: shiki’s safe, and so are beat and rhyme… and they’ll meet thursday afternoon.

thoughts swirls in his head for the one not invited, who he’d almost mentioned and left out instead — and then thoughts turn to wonder. maybe, just _maybe_ …

his hand slips into the phonebook again, even when he questions why he thinks to do it; he checks _ki_ attentively, peering for a name.

he reaches _kiryu_ and a wave of relief washes over him; he looks closer, and the wave dissipates in the burning sun.

two people in shibuya are _someone_ and _someone_ kiryu. but neither is named yoshiya kiryu. the phonebook leaves no record of even a shell, and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, that name belongs to someone long dead.

it’s exasperating. a clever idea, cut short before it could even begin --

salt hangs from the ledge ever threateningly, and he slams the book shut and buries his hands into his hair.

( _later, his mom peeks inside, curious to find the phonebook to call an old friend. she finds him, leans over him, holds him close and holds him tight._

 _they stay there, for a while, two statues in the silence of the summer afternoon._ )

* * *

it doesn’t take long to stroll up to cat street. neku had to sprint there in fifteen minutes just two weeks ago, after all, so it just takes a little longer at a slower pace. and he’s fine with that - in this summer daze, there’s not much he’s got to do anyways. he crosses the road and peeks into the windows of the first building, half-expecting to see the wrecks of what once was -

and half-expecting to see what is truly there: a pristine, calm cafe, stocked with overpriced coffee and breakfast food galore.

( _it’s perfect for a plan b. after all, sanae hanekoma would know, right? after all, he knows in those hazy memories before light took him that he was there._ )

neku plays the next song on the list and enters. the door rings, and the barista of the hour turns.

**“ phones! great to see ya again. alive and well, am i right? ”**

neku nods, each note of the beat distracting from the nagging questions. **“ yep. ”** calm and precise - not all at once. he’ll get a straight answer… _somehow_ , he just knows it, but not by rushing in. after all, that never worked before.

 **“ can i get the house blend again? nothing else. ”** he seats himself at the counter, shuffling for the 680 yen.

 **“ not even donuts? a muffin for the trip back? ”** neku’s eyes narrow at the sentiment, silent save for a hand of coins, and hanekoma shrugs it off as normal. **“ relax, kid. who am i to deny a fellow pundit for beans? gimme a sec. ”**

it takes a few minutes of drumming his hand on the counter and tapping his foot on the stool before hanekoma comes back, coffee fresh and steaming. he gives a wry smile, and neku’s almost tempted to return it before he asks questions.

**“ so, phones, why’re ya here? not just to keep an old man in business, are ya? ”**

he’s caught on. not that neku’s surprised, anyways - he just needed a while and a sip of his coffee to get to it.

**“ i wanted to ask about joshua. ”**

**“ josh, huh? what about him? ”**

**“ nothing much. ”** another sip, and a stare up at him. **“ you’ve got his phone number, right? i need to tell him something. ”**

 **“ his number? well, ‘course i do. ”** hanekoma sets down a cup and a cloth, fumbling for his own phone and pressing through the contacts. **“ oh, but i’ll have to warn you - he might not respond for a while. ”**

hanekoma picks up a pen and scratches his number down on a napkin, and up neku’s own phone goes, flipping open to add a new contact. although…

the thought bugs him. **“ why won’t he? ”**

**“ j’s been pretty busy as of recent. he’s had a lot to do since the past weeks, after all. can’t guarantee he’s got time between work and sleep. ”**

the door rings again. two teens laugh as they enter, throwing a wave to hanekoma that’s swiftly returned. **“ well, that’s my cue to leave, phones. enjoy, will ya? and tell j i said hi.”**

**“ will do.”**

and so, amidst the new chatter and scent of coffee and tea, neku sends an invite to the wind.

**[ to: unknown. date: 2007 / 08 / 27. ]**

**11:09** : _hey, joshua. it’s neku._

* * *

the day arrives.

neku wakes up with an odd skip in his step, an faster beat of his heart when he stretches late in the morning heat. on he throws the dharma he hasn’t worn since last week, and that same pair of shorts as before; and when all’s said and done, from a new talk to his mother to simply getting ready to go, he heads out again into the world.

**[ from: beat. date: 2007 / 08 / 29. ]**

**13:10** : _CMON PHONES WHER EU @???_  
**13:10** : _RHYME N I CANT WAIT FOREVER_

**[ from: rhyme bito. ]**

**13:10** : _Sorry, neku. Beat’s been excited all week!_  
**13:10** : _He gets impatient._  
**13:11** : _Take your time! We want you and Shiki to get here safe._

…well, that’s beat and rhyme for you. not like he minds, anyways.

he gets to hachiko at 2:30 p.m., looks around for the two siblings, and then he spots them waving towards him and yelling. a grin is shared on their faces, so contagious it splits on his own face and sends his shoes running towards them.

beat and rhyme seem almost the same as they’d been the first three days of the game - save for beat’s incorrigible tears when he spots him, and the slight, small changes in rhyme, they act just like they always have.

it doesn’t mean he’s not _concerned_ , though - he leans down to rhyme, looking back between them and beat. **“ beat’s gonna be okay, right? he hasn’t cried like this since the ug. ”**

rhyme shrugs it off, twisting the string of their pendant round. **“ i don’t see why not! he’s cried his eyes out before. i can’t really say i remember the times in the game that he** **_did_** **, though. ”**

on cue, beat turns, wiping the tears away from his eyes. **“ man, i** **_knew_ ** **you was gonna come out of it okay! c’mere! ”** without listening to any opposition, he grapples neku round his shoulders, and neku can’t help but _laugh_ at the abrupt change in tone.

but, to be fair, he also can’t breathe. he might be choking, now, actually--

**“ c’mon, beat. at least loosen up so he can talk. ”**

**“ oh, sorry, phones! ”** beat’s quick to let go when they mention it, patting his back. **“ don’ wanna end things like that. how you been since? ”**

neku could answer a hundred ways to that: disgruntled, discontent, irritated, simply _upset_ , even. but one thought wins out in the end. **“** **_tired_** **. ”**

 **“ the feeling’s mutual, ”** rhyme nods, though you don’t think it’s on the same degree. they wouldn’t be tired from looking for the same person, after all.

 **“ do you guys know where shiki is? ”** they ask, a glance at their phone. beat can only shake his head, and neku does the same. the same last text on his phone remains from him fifteen minutes ago.

and then, something brushes his shoulder — and not a Noise nor stranger, for a voice calls, **“ i’m here. ”**

rhyme gasps, and so does beat. neku turns to see brown hair and shades of green, and the edges of round rims looking straight back at him.

elation fills them all, a great _whoop_ in the air echoed five times all around. they’re finally back. they’re here, they’re alive, they’re together again, their fees have come back to them and fallen again into their hands, and they’re truly _back_.

they’re all so happy. neku is glad he can almost share the sentiment.

almost.

* * *

rhyme doesn't have their dreams back.

neku didn’t think the games could touch them anymore, not when it dragged them through the wringer and possession and red and black all over — but of course something still lingered, even when not right in front of him.

 _come on, you jerk. you can return five people to the living, alive and well, but you can’t return an entry fee or two people who died?_ he scoffs at the air, tempted to kick the wall, even.

he doesn’t. _it’s pathetic_.

the walk home is silent and stubborn. he reaches a path to udagawa’s back alley on accident in one lapse of memorization, and he yells. that’s the only other thing he can do than walk, after all.

 **“ when are you going to** **_face me_ ** **, for once, huh? you can’t even respond to one lousy text message. ”**

he swivels to the towers, rooftops looming above him. **“ you couldn’t even say ‘** ** _no_** **’? what are you so busy with, anyway? ”**

another scoff, and a mumble.

 **“** you’ve got _all_ the power of shibuya, and yet you use it to be a coward. **”**

he turns, ready to walk past his first grave, and a feather falls right on his face.

* * *

saturday afternoon, neku comes home trying godawful hard not to sneeze. he storms up the stairs, hands clenched into fists, and he doesn’t let go till he reaches his desk.

five feathers float onto the surface and smile upon him. ( _he can’t say the notion doesn’t make him_ sick _._ )

what are they doing here? who– well, god, what a dumb question. of _course_ yoshiya kiryu dropped them down from the sky; who _else_ would keep up a dumb trick for a once-asocial prick but a ghost with all the time in shibuya to spare? but better yet, _why_ : why, if he’s so inclined to this trick, can’t he once say something back, huh?

damn it. neku gets five hints joshua’s actually there and _alive_ , and none of them actually help. what is he supposed to do with them now that he’s got them: give them to shiki? tell hanekoma to mail them back? throw them away, even?

he tries. he tries so hard to pick them up and toss them, and he stops before the second one even meets his palm.

he can’t. he can’t do it. he’d lose the only trace of joshua he still has.

…curse joshua for never wedging out of his heart and his head.

an idea embeds, new and strong. he picks up the closest feather and a pen, and with it, he gives the paper both a subject and _life_.

* * *

**“ wow, neku! look at that detail! ”**

they’re at ramen don, the owner delighted like before for all the reception. while his hands are full in the back, everyone has opted to small talk and pleasantries, from introducing eri to exchanging phone numbers to talking about their next meet.

neku’s chosen since to gather his recent art into a sketchbook with the allowance he’s saved, and then brought it on his travels when he can. after all, he supposes if he’s going to use his imagination _now_ that it better be through pulling all of CAT’s and his own ideals into action.

though, maybe he could’ve gone without the praise and watching eyes.

 **“ where’d you learn to do it? ”** eri leans in, kicks her legs about her seat. she looks a lot like the appearance shiki took on at first, though she’s changed hats and chosen to wear a loose coat and a miniskirt. **“ shiki told me you were an artist, fashion aside — ”** she garners a laugh from herself and shiki — **“ but she didn’t tell me you were** **_that_ ** **good. ”**

 **“ i’ve never actually seen him** **_draw_** **, though! he’s just had an eye for it. ”**

neku can’t really tell if she’s told eri about dying, yet – she’s said she might, but she doesn’t know for sure.

( _who would want to tell their friend they just_ died _, anyway? better yet, who’d want to stomach it and say it was the day after she said something she’d regret?_ )

 **“ i just… learned it myself, ”** he shrugs, continuing to sketch. **“ read a lot of comic books, watched a lot of shows, and thought, ‘** ** _i want to do that_** **.’”**

 **“ ya sure it wasn’ just cause’of CAT? ”** beat asks. truthfully, neku’d hoped he could avoid the topic.

**“ …well, maybe a little. ”**

**“ aw, man, i** **_knew_ ** **it-- ”**

rhyme interrupts, even when their brother nearly yells to wait. **“ that aside, neku - you drew that from still life, right? where’d you get the feather from? ”**

neku leans back in his seat, finishing the last of his afternoon sketch. on one page lies hachiko’s statue, shining under the sun; on the other is the finished study of the feather he drew just yesterday.

the answer seems troubling in his head: if he tells them, they’re all sure to worry, and maybe frighten eri, who doesn’t seem to know a thing; if he lies about it, the second time he’s done it in a week, he risks them finding out, which leads to just the same.

…he supposes it’d be better to break the news _later_ , then.

**“ i bought it getting supplies at the crafts store. just thought it looked cool. ”**

he says it and rhyme looks at him, the bell of their pendant turned in their fingers.

they make eye contact. neku can’t tell what they’re thinking when they do.

before they can say anything, their orders slide across the counters.

neither says anything until they’ve finished. perhaps the same thought swirls in their head.

* * *

school sweeps neku onto his feet too fast and too quickly. it’s because he spent three weeks of it dead and constantly plagued by the gods overseeing it, of course, but that knowledge doesn’t make him any less disgruntled or any less tired when he walks into class.

people stare at him when he enters. his headphones are slung round his shoulders, just above his uniform, so maybe it’s their new realization that he actually has _ears_ ; his hair is already losing the defiance it’s had since the start of school, maybe because he had to make a run for it when he left home late, so maybe it’s that he’s a normal kid and not some shounen antihero; or maybe it’s the spiral notebook peeking out of his bag, and all the graphite splayed on the loose leaves, and the fact that it’s so new to see.

maybe it’s just the fact that he’s still alone again, even after all this small change. they turn and pretend they didn’t just look at him seconds after, and he’s back to being alone in a silent crowd.

oh, well. the reaper’s game was supposed to let the players change shibuya for a second and themselves for forever. changing a trend when you had a crap fashion sense was worth nothing in an average high schooler’s eyes - not even friendship.

so instead of spending his spare time in the classroom talking about, he spends his spare time wishing.

he doesn’t wish for many, but those “not-many”’s are worth more than not much. he draws them out in his book, writes notes about them in the margin, and hopes for them to happen.

he wishes. he keeps wishing. he wishes they’ll come true and they don’t.

sometimes the coins he tosses into the fountains for them get picked up by fate - though, the problem remains that fate doesn’t like him a lot, like a disgruntled neighbor next to a house party. he says it because the feathers keep coming and joshua still stays in his memories, but he doesn’t really get hide nor hair of the boy; but on the other hand, his friendships with the others starts to settle, starts to bud, starts to really bloom.

but only because he doesn’t say anything.

if he brought up the searches he embarked on his own, the periodic texts squashed between homework and chores, the journeys past murals and the river below, he realizes, things would probably turn south. not for eri nor for rhyme initially, of course - but sometimes he mentions joshua once and shiki and beat scratch the metal of a pyrokinesis pin without hesitation. there would be no help in any of it.

so he doesn’t mention anything about it. simple as can be. the feathers go on small sticky notes and not full paper, and they stop wondering why he’s bought so many decorative feathers for the next week. but it doesn’t stop him from wandering shibuya (in the afternoon, of course, not the night,) and it doesn’t stop him from wishing something might change, and it doesn’t stop him from trying to wander.

he wanders above ground, calling for feathers that only fall on their own. he wanders under the towers, waiting for something, _someone_ to respond, even if it’s a ghost in the summer who no one thinks is alive.

and at the end of it all, all he hears is mere silence.

{  _up from above the roofs of towers, another feather falls - and it flows from the hands of a god with the power of everything in shibuya and with nothing at all._  }

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~do you think they could make this a pg-13 movie. i only dropped the f-bomb once~~  
>  hiyo everyone !!! thanks for reading! this was a surprise i wrote in basically 28 hours (less, i was at school/asleep half the time) to my usual beta reader, [erika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/androidian/), so this time around it was read by [kaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilcrowned/). kaye, ily. thanks. i can't believe the last line shook you
> 
> erika can, however, take credit for some of these headcanons (affecting hanekoma's portion, the feathers), and she's otherwise both the person who kicked me back into twewy hell and an amazing writer all-around. i'd like to dedicate this to her, solely because we cry so much over this stuff daily from rp. she can also take credit for this [eulogy](https://pastebin.com/pWuzX8Y3) i've written. apparently if she dies i'm supposed to write it so i have it prepared now in case.
> 
> ( you didn't hear it from me, but it's actually really based off our shared headcanons and the space in between post-canon and the threads we roleplayed just last week in [eidolon path](http://eidolonpath.tumblr.com). it links the two for neku pretty well. )
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading !!!! you, unknown stranger or one of my friends who i cherish a lot !!!! for more crying about twewy, my tumblr is [here](http://noisedrift.tumblr.com) @noisedrift and my personal twt is [@hoshikodou](https://twitter.com/hoshikodou) !!! thank you so much !!!!!


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